


Assurity, or Lack Thereof

by RubyLipsStarryEyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyLipsStarryEyes/pseuds/RubyLipsStarryEyes
Summary: Hermione wasn’t sure, until she was.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 100





	Assurity, or Lack Thereof

She wasn’t sure when she had suddenly stopped seeing him as her former professor or as something akin to an uncle. She wasn’t sure when she’d first noticed the way his hair looked so pleasant to run her fingers through, or how his eyes sparkled when he spoke. To be completely honest, she wasn’t sure when she’d developed this crush and then let it fester into something more.

She wasn’t sure why she’d taken the place next to him at the table, even though her normal seat was open. She wasn’t sure what her plan had been, and she wasn’t sure why all of the sudden she wasn’t sure about much of anything. She wasn’t sure why she’d always been the one with a plan, the one that was sure of her next move, because all she was sure of now was that she wasn’t sure of anything.

She definitely wasn’t sure what she was doing when her hand landed on his thigh under the table. She wasn’t sure if the sharp intake of breath was one of pleasure or anger. She wasn’t sure if he’d meant to brush her hand when passing the potatoes. She wasn’t sure if it was the wine that was making her face feel warm, or if it was the proximity to the man that made her blood run hot.

She still wasn’t sure if she was ready to let go, to throw all caution to the wind and let the pieces land as they may. She wasn’t sure if she could take the rejection, or if she could take the acceptance. She wasn’t sure if he would let her get away with much more. She wasn’t sure if she could be any more forward.

And then she wasn’t sure if she could breathe when he’d cornered her in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if the fire in his amber eyes was anger or lust, or if he’d let her go. She wasn’t sure what she was doing when his name was on her lips, and his hands were on her hips.

She wasn’t sure if his lips tasted like wine, or if she was tasting it on her own. She wasn’t sure if her heart could take it, or if it would stop in her chest. She wasn’t sure if her fingers were shaking as they slid under his shirt, and she wasn’t sure if the scars she felt were fresh or old.

She wasn’t sure if the hands that gripped her were going to disappear at any second or if they were going to hold her tighter. She wasn’t sure where he was aparating them. She wasn’t sure if she was gasping for air or for more of him.

And then, she was _sure_.

She was sure that this is what she wanted. She was sure that the clothes being torn off in a passionate frenzy were better off on the floor. She was sure that his lips were the best thing she’d ever felt on her neck. She was sure that the velvet covered steel in her hand was perfect, and she needed it. She was sure of herself when they fell to the bed and she was climbing on top of him.She was sure when she sank down, taking him to the hilt that they were the perfect fit.

She was sure she was coming undone the moment he moved inside of her. She was sure her name murmured against her nipple was what she’d been needing to hear. She was sure that when the pleasure crashed over her she wanted more; a day, a year, a lifetime’s worth. She was sure when he climaxed with a shout that he was the most glorious creature she’d ever encountered. 

She was sure that his fingers tracing gentle paths across her skin in the afterglow was heaven. She was sure that their soft, languid kisses were a promise of more to come. 

But she wasn’t sure, when she woke up the next morning in her own bed, if it had been real. She wasn’t sure, until the door opened to his sparking amber eyes and two teacups. 

And then she was sure. 


End file.
